


Game Over

by Binaryfrog



Category: jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Mental Illness, Suicide mentions, depression tw, suicide TW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 17:40:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5549486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Binaryfrog/pseuds/Binaryfrog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are suffering, and then you are saved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Game Over

**Author's Note:**

> I suffer from depression, and recently it is worse than it has been. I wrote this for me and people like me who struggle with this kind of pain. I wrote this to express my frustration in a creative way instead of doing what I normally do.
> 
> This is unedited, raw, and not revised. There will be misspellings, grammar errors, and other such nonsense. I don't care. This is more therapy for me than anything else and it just turned out that I liked it enough to share with you.
> 
> I used quotes that they have said and I've put them in italics.

The only thing you can hear is your computer fan whizzing away, oblivious to the normal silence that comes with the clock striking 3. It's dark, but you don't notice. Lately it feels like it's always dark, even when the sun is out.

The salt from dried tears makes your eyes sting, even through the weak smile on your lips. Your screen illuminates the darkness, and the voice emanating from the ancient machine is a small comfort. It's his voice, one of the only voices that seems to bring your comfort anymore. You sigh sadly and just barely touch your fingertip to your computer screen, like you're trying to touch his hair. Sometimes it feels like everything would get better if you could just touch him, just see him. Fresh tears fall down your face as the video buffers and you silently scream out to him for help.

Somewhere along the way the man with the pink mustache had turned in to a god among men, and you couldn't decide how that made you feel. He was one of a pair of gods that you unknowingly worshiped in your day to day life. The mustache and the eye, always a click away. These were the men you cried out to when you were in pain, the men you laughed with when you were happy, the men you imagined yourself sharing secrets and drinks with. You were unworthy, too small to be noticed by the very men who have saved you time and again from... Well, we don't talk about what from. It's not polite.

The video plays again and a new face appears. Green hair and a cartoon eye named Sam accompany you in the darkness, adding to the comfort you feel... but also the shame. You ask yourself how you can idolize them like this. How you can feel so empty with out people you've never met... people you will likely never meet. Fresh tears fall down your face as you stare at your computer screen, at the two men who unknowingly bring you comfort day in and day out. You scrub at your tears with the back of your hand as you feel them fall in rivers. You feel so stupid for letting them affect you this way, for letting them be real.

They are real you suppose, living and breathing somewhere out there, but you've found that the more real they are, the more pathetic you become. You're sobbing now, and you can't quite put your finger on why, but it doesn't seem to matter at this point. Your vision blurs through the tears. This time you really can't take it anymore. It's over. You're done. The pain is too much and they aren't helping like the usually do. You've hurt all day... all month... all year? You've lost track of time.

You turn the computer away so they can't watch with unseeing eyes as you slowly stand. You drag yourself in to the kitchen and stare hard at the cupboard in the very center of the wall. Of all the nights you've had staring contests with this hunk of wood, you feel like tonight you might be the one that breaks first. You shuffle forward, just a step, before falling to your knees. This pain... it isn't real. It's not physical, it lives in your head and you can overcome it if you could just turn around... but that's the thing, you can't.

So you don't. You crawl forward, begging yourself to stop, but this time your pleas fall on deaf ears. The only thing your body knows right now is pain... and how to end it.

A soft touch on your shoulder startles you, “what are you doing?”

You turn and you are face to face with the god in the red flannel. His eyes shine behind thick glasses and it makes the tears fall harder. How do you explain to the man with blue hair that you just can't do it anymore? How do you tell him you aren't worthy?

“But you are,” a second hand touches the top of your head, making you turn the other way, “You are worthy of anything”. His voice is musical and soothing but the tears don't stop, not even when a soft smile makes his eyes crinkle. You inch forward slightly, trying to push their hands away, determined to finish this game. Determined to reach game over.

“Stop,” the first hand grips you tighter, “Please, I may not know you but you mean the world to me. Please don't do this... The world isn't done with you yet. There are so many games left to play.”

The second hand softens and pets your hair, “You have so much left to do, so much left to accomplish. Please stay. Please...”

You scream and smack their hands away. How dare they? How dare they pretend to know who you are? Your body heaves with each new sob, snot and tears soaking your face and clothes. They can't see you like this, they never will, and they don't care. You are 1 in 10 million. You are nothing.

“But you are something,” the first hand squirms under your arm, “and we do care,”

The other hand follows suite on the other side, “Don't cry... we're here for you.”

The strong arms of the two men pull you to your feet as you choke down sobs. The four strong arms surround you in a tight and warm embrace and you put your whole weight on them, shuddering.

“ _You have to start believing in yourself_ ,” the first man whispers, a tear appearing behind his glasses. He kisses the side of your head gently and pulls you into the hug tighter, supporting your weak legs, “ _With all my heart I believe that you can do good in this world and that you can be a force for good_. Don't reach for game over when you haven't even started.”

“ _Everything is going to be alright_ ,” the second one says, a gentle hand running up and down your back, “ _maybe not today, but eventually._ You have to be around for that 'eventually'. You still have lives left in this game... so please just keep on fighting.”

You bury your face in their shoulders as they take you by the hands and lead you to bed. You stumble along the way and fall to your knees. The pain is overwhelming and you cry out in to the darkness. The first one scoops you up in his arms and begins to carry you down a long hallway. You watch his face, his hair. You reach out to touch the blue floof on the top of his head and find it softer than you imagined. He smiles down at you past his glasses and places a small kiss on your forehead.

The other one takes you out of the first one's arms, green hair falling in his eyes. His entire face is lit with a gentle grin. You brush the hair out of his eyes and he returns the favor, caressing your cheek. He holds you close, almost protectively and you feel your eyes begin to close. You note that you've finally stop crying.

When you reach your destination he puts you down on your feet and the two of them embrace you once more.

“Thank you so much for watching”

“and I will see all you dudes in the next video!”

“Buh-bye!”

They wave to you as you crawl in to bed and you wave back.

“Buh-bye Mark. See you in the next video Jack”. You yawn and try to scrub the excess salt from your eye as you lay yourself down in bed.

You nuzzle in to your pillow and you wait patiently for your eyes to close.

It's time to rest up. Your struggle isn't over. You still have a game to play, and no matter how hard, this is a game you have to win.


End file.
